


Make me put on a show.

by w_x_2



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w_x_2/pseuds/w_x_2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hand to your cock,” Moriarty commands as he looks at said part of Moran's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make me put on a show.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, no harm intended, no profit made.  
> A/N: For the 9th day of [mmom](http://mmom.livejournal.com/) 2014.

“Boss,” Moran acknowledges as he walks inside Moriarty's office. “Sorry for the delay,” he apologizes. Moriarty had called him to his office well over half an hour ago, but Moran had only been able to actually make his way to him five minutes ago.

 

“Close the door,” Moriarty orders when he looks up to see Moran standing by the threshold.

 

Moran does as told after stepping inside.

 

“Come closer,” Moriarty instructs and watches as Moran makes his way across the room to stand between the two chairs in front of Moriarty's desk. “Undress,” Moriarty simply orders without any explanation.

 

Moran looks confused but only takes a moment to comply.

 

First he takes off his jacket draping it neatly on the chair to his right, and then he toes off his shoes behind the same chair, before moving to stand in his previous place, in plain sight of his boss.

 

He unclasps his gun holster, but leaves it on until he takes both guns and places them on the chair to the left with great care.

 

The holster is draped over his jacket before he makes quick work of the buttons in his shirt from top to bottom until they are all undone and then Moran pulls on the front tails of the shirt in order to untuck the front from inside his trousers.

 

Moran reaches his hands behind himself and comes forth with another gun in one hand to place next to the others on the chair, and with a knife, complete with a sheath clasped in the other hand which he also places in the same place.

 

Then he undoes the buttons of his sleeves, untucks the rest of the shirt at the back, lets the shirt slip off his shoulders and expose his arms before dropping it over the nearest arm of the chair to his right.

 

Moran looks up at Moriarty but his boss remains blank faced so Moran continues, bends down to take another sheathed knife with its holster from around one ankle, and a gun also with its holster from the other. He keeps crouched down as he reaches up and off to the side to place them on the chair to the left before he takes off his socks one at a time and reaches behind himself to place the appropriate sock into each shoe.

 

He stands up slowly, keeps his eyes on Moriarty and brings his hands up to his belt in order to open and slip it off the trousers' loops before throwing it in the direction of the clothes he has already taken off. Then he undoes the button of his trousers, slides down the zip and allows his trousers to slide down and expose his boxers and his legs.

 

Moran picks up the trousers, drapes them over the chair and then looks towards his boss, stopping his stripping as he's down to his tank top and boxers. They both lock eyes and Moriarty looks at him expectantly. He doesn't have to say a word for Moran to know that he's meant to keep going. He slips the tank top off first, up and over his head, letting it hover on his lower arm as he moves it over to his right so that the clothing item can drop on the chair as Moran lets it go.

 

It's only his boxers that are left in order for him to be completely naked so Moran brings his hands up to the hem of his boxers to rest them over his hip bones for a second before pushing them down. He bends as they go down his legs and then he grabs them off of the floor when he steps out of them. He stands up, flicks them in the direction of the chair and then waits, hands behind his back and feet planted firmly, at attention.

 

“Make yourself hard.”

 

Moran takes his time, this has never happened before and he actually has no clue what _this_ is.

 

“Come here,” Moriarty says as he nods down to his desk when Moran is hard.

 

Moran lets go of his cock and takes two steps closer.

 

“Lay down.”

 

Moran takes a look down at the cluttered desk before he swipes a hand over it, clearing it completely as everything falls to the floor.

 

“Unnecessary,” Moriarty comments but watches as Moran rises onto the desk, sitting before indeed laying down, head at one end, and legs falling over the other.

 

“Hand to your cock,” Moriarty commands as he looks at said part of Moran's body.

 

Moran does as told and then looks back at his boss, innocently waiting.

 

“You know what to do,” Moriarty says in a gruff tone.

 

“If you want me to wank then yes, if it's something else then you'll have to tell me.”

 

“Don't get smart with me,” Moriarty rebukes. “Please yourself to completion,” he instructs.

 

“Yes, sir,” Moran answers and does as told, pumping his cock. He keeps his eyes locked with that of Moriaty's as he starts slow, and also through building his rhythm, through teasing himself, and then through pinching each of his nipples in turn before squeezing himself tight as he pumps his cock in a furious pace.

 

“Come on your stomach,” Moriarty says just before Moran comes. Moran aims his cock towards his stomach and shoots his load, body shuddering and eyes fighting to stay open as he remains looking at his boss.

 

When he finishes wringing his cock dry Moran lets his eyes slip closed for a few seconds as he gets his breath back under control before opening them back up.

 

“Let go,” Moriarty instructs.

 

Moran places his arms by his sides, hands flat on the desk, and then it's him who watches intently as his boss leans over him and gives Moran's stomach long licks, scooping up Moran's come in his mouth until all traces of semen are gone from Moran's skin.

 

Moriarty sits upright once he's done, and swallows before saying, “Get dressed.”

 

Moran doesn't do as told but instead stays laying down and asks, “You don't want me to get you off?”

 

“Getting you to service me would mean I have to pay you, or wine and dine you.”

 

“Why don't you make me, like you just made me put on a show?”

 

“Even I must set some standards. Not raping your most efficient snipper, and protection detail seems to be a good one,” his tone is final so Moran sits up, gets up, walks over to the chairs and does as previously told, covering himself with each of his clothing items but leaving the weapons untouched.

 

“Are there any jobs this afternoon?” he asks when he's done.

 

“Not for you.”

 

“Are you going out?”

 

“Yes,” Moriarty answers as he stands up. “You're not coming.”

 

“You just said I was you most efficient protection detail.”

 

“I said: most efficient snipper, _comma_ , and protection detail.”

 

“Who are you taking?”

 

“You asks too many questions.”

 

“I just killed the head of your security,” Moran says about why he had been late plus with so many weapons.

 

“And that makes you the boss of my protection?” Moriarty questions as he rounds the desk and steps right up to Moran.

 

“Yes,” Moran answers confidently.

 

“That may be so,” Moriarty answers. And then continues, “But _no one_ ,” he emphasizes as his hand comes up to threateningly grab Moran by the throat. “Is the boss _of_ me.”

 


End file.
